Walls Fall Down
by Indigo Signora
Summary: Even after the war, alt-dimension Isabella is unable to shed her anger and hostility. However, when she finds out that, in the other dimension, she's in love, she dares to wonder if something so elusive might be the one thing to allow her to let go. [ABANDONED]
1. Intrigued

**A/N:** Although I've seen a fair few stories about our dimension's characters post-events of the movie, I haven't seen too many people deal with the characters from the second dimension (alt. Dr D is basically the only one from that dimension I've seen so far). I thought it might be interesting to write from their point of view... particularly Isabella, since she was so different - war-hardened, even. It was an interesting concept to play with, anyway. Hope you enjoy the first chapter...

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><p>"Isabella!"<p>

Not five paces from the safety of her front door, Isabella tensed at the call. Across the span of a single heartbeat, a tactical list of every possible offensive manoeuvre flashed through her mind. Time seemed to slow as she steeled herself to defend against an attack, clearing all distractions from her mind and bringing about a cool aura of calculated determination. With a surge of quiet hostility that sent adrenaline rushing through every muscle, she whipped around to face her assailant, hands raised in a defensive position should she need to use them.

To her surprise, though, it was only a familiar young Indian boy on the sidewalk, with a larger boy in tow. Isabella's hands fell to her sides, the threatened flare dying out. The adrenaline with no outlet gave her a sensation of physical weariness. Even a year after the SNAFU with the alternate dimension, the old resistance habits of self-defence were hard to break. It was easier to just be constantly on her guard.

"Doctor Baljeet?" Isabella ventured, her sense of alarm still raised warily. She had not seen him since the final resistance meeting after the official capture of Doofenshmirtz—over a year ago. Most of the kids had gone their own ways after the fact, having seen each other more as old allies than as friends.

The Indian smiled wistfully. "It is just Baljeet now. I suppose that I am no longer a doctor now that the war is over. It was basically a show for the resistance, for all intents and purposes." His appearance reflected it, too. Though his curly hair was still styled upward in a strange sort of peak, he had done away with his grungy lab coat and Dooferalls to wear simple grey slacks and a polo. The effect was somewhat disillusioning.

Isabella lifted her gaze to scrutinize the other arrival. Buford, of course. She restrained a sneer. Buford was dressed in clothes not unlike his old outfit, with cargo pants and a tight black shirt that revealed the solid lines of muscle. His hair had been grown and cut to a uniform length, leaving no evidence of the former mohawk. His gray eyes were still as hardened as ever, but his general demeanour was somewhat softer than it had been in his "resisting the resistance" days.

"Sup," he growled in what Isabella supposed to be a friendly greeting.

"Not much," she responded coolly. It was hard to forgive a person for ditching their operation in the heated stages of struggle. Out of pure stubbornness, the moron had decided he was too good for their resistance group and decided to resist _them_. It hadn't entailed much more than piddling acts of vigilante justice independent of rhyme or reason, but the treachery still burned Isabella.

Baljeet, whose eyes were darting between the two steely glares with a nervous expression, decided to intervene. "How have you been, Isabella?" he cut in with a higher than normal voice. "Keeping busy?"

Isabella allowed a brief, humourless smile to cross her features. "I guess." If by busy, he meant holing herself in her room to design battle plans for hypothetical attacks on their city, then yes, she had been very busy. Even so, she too had exchanged her resistance wear for something less militaristic: denim jeans and faded tee-shirts. It felt too casual—wrong, somehow, as if she was shedding the protective coat she had worn for so long. But the fight was supposedly over. There was no more need to dress the part. Though she had changed her outfit, however, she had chosen not the discard the persona.

"I almost miss it," Baljeet said with a chuckle. "Not the oppressive dictatorship, of course, but I miss the feeling of fighting back against an evil force. It was very liberating. Ironic, isn't it?" He walked up her front step, keeping back several paces. His face bore a sort of longing. "I was surprised at how difficult it was to move on from it all."

He had hit the nail on the head. Isabella nodded curtly. "I know. I think we're all having a hard time moving on." She gazed in the direction of her bedroom, imagining its current decor. During the old rule, creativity and cheerfulness were outlawed; as a result, most things became drab. Her room was a prime example: dull walls, dull carpeting, no decorations of any sort, and a closet with mostly empty hangers—the Dooferalls had been the first to go. The only furnishings were a bookshelf containing a lone stuffed dog, tattered with age, and a cot-style bed with a single pillow and a thin coverlet. In the past year, not much had changed. The outfit switch had been enough for the time being, and even then, her resistance wear was still stashed in the corner of her closet... just in case.

"Yeah," Baljeet responded.

They both fell silent for a moment, dwelling on the past.

"Maybe we should all get together sometime," Baljeet finally said.

Isabella, not believing his words, fixed Baljeet with an even glare. He withered visibly. The idea of hanging out—a friendship rather than an alliance against an unspeakable force—was foreign to her. Not only that, but it was unnecessary. She had been doing just fine on her own. It had been difficult enough to invite someone into her circle of trust during the days of Doofenshmirtz's rule, but forming allies had been absolutely necessary for the resistance's sake. It wasn't anymore, though.

"I... I thought it was a good idea," Baljeet murmured, tearing his fearful gaze from her direction "What better way to get into a normal routine than to behave like people in a normal situation...?" From the gradual fading of his words, Isabella could tell that, under her fierce stare, he was beginning to question his sanity at having proposed the idea.

Isabella crossed her arms, slipping back into her haughty, defensive posture of the resistance days with the ease of putting on an old sweater. She reprimanded herself for not having determined his motives from his willingness to hang out with someone like Buford outside of necessity.

"Thanks, but no thanks," she declared. "You two can be 'normal' all you want, but I have better things to do." Her cold words flowed naturally enough as long as she imagined that her former colleague was a neutral party, someone to whom she bore neither ill will nor amiability—which, in truth, he was.

With a hastily muttered goodbye, Baljeet scampered away without meeting her eye. Buford rolled his eyes, gave her an ironic wave, and followed the young Indian. After they were gone, Isabella released a long breath, seated herself on the front stoop, and picked at stray blades of grass growing between the patio stones. Even the flora seemed greener and brighter since the tyranny had ended. The once-impenetrable smog had lifted, allowing the sun to shine over a recuperating Danville. Where it wasn't completely industrialized, the flowers were permitted to bloom once more, and their splashes of colour added a rainbow of hues to the local scenery. Even in its stages of repair, Danville was steadily becoming beautiful again. Isabella could barely remember the city as it had been before Doofenshmirtz took over, but somehow she knew that it wouldn't be long before it regained its former glory.

Isabella peered at the fluffs of gentle white cloud in the azure sky and wondered why she couldn't let go. Something crucial was amiss, and until she found it, she could not accept that things were all fine and dandy. There was a certain _je ne sais quoi_ that continued to nag at her subconscious, a constant, invisible burden that kept her on her toes, as if there _was_ trouble. It couldn't be, though. Doofenshmirtz had been imprisoned, the resistance had disbanded, and the only problems Danville had to deal with were petty crimes. There was nothing tangible for anyone to have to worry about.

And yet Isabella could not dismiss the fact that something felt _wrong_.

She wondered if it was just the issue of friends. Other people had finally begun to trust one another again. Perhaps casual companionship was what her life was missing. She had spent the last year in isolation, never having felt the need to do otherwise. Less than a year ago, the notion of friendship would have been laughable. Their bonds had been born out of mutual loathing for the man lording over them all, not any sense of amity. Just as with the simmering hostility that threatened to break free in the event of an assault, interpersonal attitudes formed under dictatorship were also hard to break.

Some of them were moving on, though. Isabella had seen Candace with Jeremy, the soldier—now ex-soldier, she supposed—from the other side of town. At first surprised that someone as single-minded and emotionless as Candace could even begin to show any sign of affection—apart from protectiveness over her brothers—Isabella's reaction had turned to incredulity. A relationship meant allowing someone your trust, and Isabella, who had been a mere soldier in the war days, couldn't even fathom that. That someone as tough as _Candace_, her boss, the leader of the resistance, had opened herself up to someone that way was even harder to believe.

Isabella had passed the couple in the park last spring. Jeremy's arm had been wrapped loosely around Candace's shoulder as they sat side by side on a park bench, watching ducks in the pond. The sight of wild animals for the first time in months had been a minor shock, but the show of Candace's intimate side had been far more astounding. Despite Jeremy's chaste gesture, Isabella felt as if she was staring at something deeply personal, like looking into the depths of her formers boss' soul. She had quickly skittered away from the scene, but the image had lasted in her mind.

In a dark, ignored recess of her mind, she supposed that there was the tiniest longing for someone to put their arm around _her_. Considering how much of a stretch friendship already was, though, the next step seemed outright impossible. Though she no longer _had_ to shroud herself in an indifferent cloak of self-preservation, it was easier that way. To let down her walls enough to call someone a friend already went against her defensiveness; to place her emotional wellbeing into someone else's hands was intimidating. It had been simpler to build up and maintain the barricade around her heart, keeping her emotions both protected and in check—emotions like love were weak and served no good purpose.

Isabella was awakened from her dark reverie by the prickling sensation of somebody watching her. Lifting her eyes cautiously, she saw with exasperation that Baljeet had returned. He kept his distance, remaining on the curb.

With a heavy sigh, Isabella returned to her feet. "Whatcha doin'?" she sniped.

"I just thought you might be interested in knowing a little bit about you from the other dimension."

Her interest was immediately piqued. She had thought little about their doppelgangers from the previous dimension over the past twelve months, but the twin she never met resurfaced in her mind now and then. Apart from the alternate-dimension Candace's backhanded question in passing about Isabella's style choices, she had been given little information about what she was like in _their_ world.

"How would you know anything about that dimension?" she questioned. She took his words with a grain of salt, knowing that he would just love to dangle that kind of bait over her head.

He shrugged. "Although travelling backwards through the dimensions requires many gigawatts of energy, merely observing them is not nearly as difficult. I've been studying their world for the past several months to compare it with ours."

"So, what about me?" Isabella pressed, trying not to reveal how eager she was.

Baljeet almost looked smug that he had captivated her so quickly. "She is a light-hearted girl, not at all toughened like the people in our dimension. She is but a child."

Isabella repressed a snort of disdain. They were all children. In their own dimension, they just hadn't been given a chance at childhood.

"Is that it?" Isabella demanded. She was unimpressed, though she hadn't expected much of her other-dimension self. All of the kids in the alternate dimension were soft. None of them had needed to prepare for, defend against, and face the dangers that she had. She could hardly expect any of them to be particularly interesting.

Except for those two brothers, of course. She had never met two more exuberant, colourful individuals—the quiet one included. They were a shining beacon of optimism in the drab world into which they had been accidentally drawn. She supposed that they had exhibited ingenuity as well in the face of their adversary and the robot army. That sort of resourcefulness was a trait she admired. She almost wished that they had been present earlier in the revolution—they all might have triumphed earlier in that case.

"No, actually." From the demure smile on his face, Isabella could tell that this is what he had been waiting to tell her. "Isabella from the other dimension... is in love."

The image of Jeremy with his arm around Candace flitted through Isabella's mind, and an unmistakeable ache of envy made her heart trip a beat. Almost as soon as the sensation flashed through her, though, it was gone. She reminded herself that love was weak.

"Do you know _who_ she's in love with?" she inquired, trying to mask the lingering fluttery feeling in her stomach with a purely academic tone.

"Actually, I do not."

"You don't know _anything_ about it?" she asked sceptically.

"Well..." Baljeet's smile grew into something a bit more devious. "I do, but I have—how did you put it?—better things to do than share the information. It is probably unimportant anyhow. I just thought you might be interested."

In the space of a second, Isabella had sprinted to the curb and locked the collar of Baljeet's polo in a death grip. She hoisted him onto his tiptoes so that they were nose to nose. "Tell me," she ordered. The piece of her deep inside that continued to smoulder with dreams of a now-unnecessary revolution wasn't beyond using her old interrogation methods to extract answers from a former ally.

Baljeet trembled and placed both of his hands on hers, trying to pry loose her fingers without success. His arrogant smirk gone, he looked at her with pleading eyes. "Isabella, this is not really necessary, is it? I can just—"

"You can just tell me what I need to know," Isabella interrupted, slackening her grip just enough to allow him to stand properly. She wasn't about to let him run free, however.

With a look of resignation and fear that showed just how well he knew that she wasn't going to let him go until he divulged what he had learned, Baljeet cleared his throat. "First of all, it is impossible to see anything in their dimension in great detail. It is like watching a television with bad tuning and poor sound."

"Get on with it," Isabella growled.

Baljeet gulped. "I am just saying that my observations may not be one hundred percent accurate. However, from what I have seen, I can tell that the _other_ Isabella is in love with... either Phineas or Ferb. But I cannot tell which, since she is around both of them almost all the time."

The proclamation stopped Isabella dead. Phineas or Ferb? The boys from the other dimension had been captivating, yes, but not in _that_ sense. And her experience with the Phineas and Ferb from her own dimension had been brief and fraught with a distracting amount of danger. Her first impression of the boys in their world was exactly the opposite of the traits she valued during the time of the resistance: weak, sheltered, and of no great use to their cause. She found it hard to believe that the other Isabella had found something to desire in one of them.

Although...

She recalled the high-tech military outfits donned by the boys during the height of their robot revolution. They had been... an improvement, to say the very least. They could be hope for them yet. And to be fair, she had not seen either of them in a year. There was always the chance that—

"What da heck are you doin'?"

Buford's angry voice cut through her musings. She turned to shoot him a displeased look, only to be met with two strong hands ramming into her shoulders, shoving her away from Baljeet.

Despite the radiating pain now rocking through her arms, Isabella was immediately in offensive mode. It didn't matter that it was only Buford, that he wasn't worth her time, and that she had been the one to incur his rage. The blood pounding in her ears and adrenaline coursing through her veins screamed for action, for someone's posterior to be handed to them on a shiny silver platter. Her fighting muscles had been unused for too long, and this was the perfect opportunity to sharpen her skills once more.

Before she could begin her counter-assault, however, Baljeet placed himself between the two snarling individuals and raised one hand to each, as if someone his size would have any chance at all at keeping them back from each other. Buford was broad and made of muscle, and he could easily crush the tiny Indian boy. Isabella was slender, but she was lean and sinewy, with years of combat training under her belt to give her an advantage. Baljeet wouldn't have lasted two seconds between the clash of the two forces. To his luck, his foolish act of bravery was just enough to diffuse Isabella's aggressiveness to the point where she wasn't about to spring. Her hateful staring contest with Buford remained unbroken.

"Please, can we not fight?" Baljeet begged. "There is no point. We should not be fighting anymore, especially amongst ourselves!"

As much as her bloodlust raged within her, Isabella had to admit that he was right. Buford _wasn't_ worth her time. With the best glare she could muster, she spun around with a flip of her hair and strutted to her front door. There was no thanking Baljeet for what he had told her, or a farewell of any sort. She merely walked away with her pride and entered the house, slamming the door behind her.

Once in her room, she flopped down onto the cot and lost herself in a million different thoughts. Predominant among them, though, was that of love.

Love... it was hard to understand. There had been too much hate, too much evil in her life for love. She couldn't meet other people, let alone fall for them. And even though people like Baljeet and Candace were somehow shedding their resistance ways like old skins and forming genuine bonds with others, Isabella still couldn't bring herself to trust anyone but herself. Everything was just too quiet. Something had to be wrong. Something inside of her screamed that if she let her guard down now, she would only end up getting hurt.

Just like her mother.

Isabella's father was long gone, having left sometime before she could be aware of it. Her mother, however, had fallen for a young man at the factory in which she had been assigned to work. Their affair had been brief. Little had her mom known, the man had been from another, less-organised resistance group. The fool had accidentally revealed himself during a covert mission to sabotage the Normbot factory, and he had been apprehended, and... Isabella didn't want to think what else. All she knew was that the loss had devastated her mother; her mother, who had trusted someone during the war, had only left herself open to hurt when her lover was captured as so many people were in those days. Isabella just counted herself lucky that her mom didn't know about her resistance activities—had Vivian shared them with her lover, there was no saying that he wouldn't have thrown Isabella under the bus to save himself. All of it had only strengthened Isabella's resolve not to let anyone behind the walls shrouding her emotions.

If something bad ever did happen, love would only bring her down.

And yet, right across the street, there was someone that another version of herself had chosen as a romantic partner. Something about one of them had captured her other self's interest. Obviously the other dimension didn't have to worry about the resurgence of a dictatorship, but in a way, it was still _her_. And the other _she_ had fallen in love with someone who also existed in their dimension. It was entirely likely that the two dimensions were independent of each other in terms of emotions, but the seed had been planted in her mind regardless. And as impossible as it sounded, Isabella had to find out. Despite her mistrust of romance, her all-consuming need to investigate something that fascinating wouldn't let her be.

Shamefully, as if thinking that far into it was hypocrisy, she also wondered which stepbrother it could be. Reminiscing on the other-dimension brothers, she compared the two: Phineas, the short, redheaded fireball who was full of ideas, and spunk to boot; Ferb, the man of action who was as brilliant as he was silent, with his curiously forest green hair and jade eyes? There was no preference because she could feel no attraction. Attraction was the first step of love, and it was just as hard to fathom.

Yet, again she wondered what her life was missing... wondered if this could be it.

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><p><strong>AN: **Apologies if Isabella seems out of character to anyone. I just figured that, since she's the alternate dimension Isabella, she would be more contemptuous of petty emotions (like love - to her, anyway). She seemed mistrustful of intruders right off the bat in the movie, and even though she sort of warmed up to Phineas afterwards, I assume that she would be fairly uptight about trusting people even after the war. In any case... that's how I decided to write her. Sorry if it doesn't strike you, Constant Reader, as appropriate. Anyhow, thanks for reading! Reviews are love~


	2. Startled

**A/N:** Bit of a shorter chapter this time around, but I just needed to get the ball rolling. Since I haven't been tweaking it much, it's just going to sit stagnant if I don't post it anyway, hehe. Hope you folks enjoy~

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><p>Even though Isabella had tried her hardest to crush any sense of curiosity overnight, it was for nothing. She woke up the next morning with just as strong a burning need to see the boys again... just in case. Her subconscious screamed that it was completely stupid, and that love was useless anyway, but she <em>needed<em> to know. She needed to see. _Just in case_. Because of course there had to be that one nagging little part of her that _wanted_ something that left her as vulnerable as a relationship would, and there seemed to be no stomping that out of her system. And, she mused, you never know—maybe meeting them would open her eyes and push the ridiculous thoughts from her head. It was probably just the curiosity... or so she tried to convince herself.

With a great deal of courage—odd considering fearlessness had always been one of her best assets during the fight—she took the opportunity to meet the boys that very day. Making her way across the street seemed an insurmountable task, a journey of epic proportions. Her stomach churned with uncharacteristic anxiety the whole way over. It was unlike her to feel this sort of debilitating nervousness, but the situation was completely alien to her. Just yesterday she had grappled with the concept of friends after having lived in virtual seclusion from all those her age for a year, and today she was seeing who _she_ had fallen in love with on a completely different plane. However, it was unlike her to back down from a challenge.

Her finger hovered over the doorbell for a long minute before she could summon the guts to press it. Distantly, she could hear the chime of the bell somewhere within the house. In the moments that followed in silence, she almost hoped that no one would answer, that she could just run home and forget that any of it ever happened, and continue on with her life on her own—

The vague outline of who she presumed to be their mother became visible behind the thick glass, and the door swung open shortly after. The mother, a woman of average height and build with a thick head of brilliant red hair just like one of her sons, greeted Isabella with a smile. Isabella could almost spot a ghost of mistrust flash through the woman's blue eyes, and she hoped it was merely a lingering reflex caused by the conditioning of the old rule.

"Hi," Isabella managed to stammer, cursing her feeble voice. She had hoped to put up a stronger front than this. "Are Phineas and Ferb home? I'm Isabella Garcia-Shapiro, from across the street." She added the last sentence quickly, as if trying to explain her sudden appearance on their doorstep.

"Sure, they're right upstairs." Linda backed out of Isabella's way and gestured toward to stairwell behind her. "And my name is Linda Flynn-Fletcher, but you can call me Linda." Her warm countenance appeared genuine, the subtle look of mistrust seemingly gone, and Isabella hesitantly stepped over the threshold. Once in the house, she darted for the stairs, eager to be away from the possible scrutiny of her motives. It never occurred to her that Linda might just be content that her boys had made a new friend.

Upon arriving at the top landing, Isabella slowed and allowed herself to look around. Her entire body tensed when she saw the figure not five paces away from her feet: the metallic shell and turquoise fur of the platyborg. Without thinking, she readied herself for battle, only to remember that the platyborg's stint in Doofenshmirtz's service was long since over. Perry—she was pretty sure of its name—had been Phineas and Ferb's pet before being abducted by their "leader," and he had returned to being a mindless domesticated animal ever since the war had ended. Nevertheless, Isabella felt a chill looking into the scope over one eye. She had had too many close encounters with the beast during its time as a tool of evil.

Cautiously, she crouched down and held out one hand. The platyborg chattered at her in its unique way as it peered at the gesture. Slowly, it stepped forward, the mechanized joints hissing and buzzing softly with every movement. It approached her hand and sniffed it. Isabella was still wary, almost expecting it to chomp on her fingers at any moment, but to her surprise, it nuzzled against her. She tentatively stroked its bill, and it chattered again. She took it to be a happy sound. Allowing a small smile, she scratched the fur at the top of its head. Its eyes drifted lazily, as if in contentment.

Assured now that the platyborg wasn't planning on taking her down, Isabella returned to a standing position and glanced around the hallway. Down the hall to her right was a closed door. From behind it, she could hear the distinct noise of splattering water from someone taking a shower. Ignoring the bathroom, she continued searching the doors. One was labelled with Candace's name; it was still odd to be in the house of her former boss, like she was intruding upon Candace's headquarters. Of course, she reminded herself, those days were gone. She looked to the left and saw a simple wooden door emblazoned with the exact names she was searching for: Phineas and Ferb. Steeling herself upon seeing the cracked-open door, she nudged it all the way open with her foot and peered inside.

She first took in the room's decor, which struck her as a look halfway between the utilitarian style and something more liberal. The floors and carpeting were the same dull shades of grey and off-white as her room, and dusty shelves lined the walls. There were several colourful posters up on the walls, however, and various trinkets were scattered across the room. Books of all shapes and subjects were littered on every available surface, including the corners of the floor. A rusted metal box filled with second-hand tools protruded from under one of the beds.

Atop the other bed was the singular occupant of the room. And as soon as Isabella's gaze reached his face, she was hit with a jolt somewhere in her chest region.

This was the one. There was no doubt about it. She could hardly believe that she had doubted the possibility that she would feel the same connection as the Isabella in the alternate dimension. Maybe it wasn't love, or even attraction, but it was _something_. Her stomach wound itself in knots, her heart leapt into her throat, and her eyes were locked onto his. It was him, all right. She had never been more certain of anything in her life.

The doubts, the former impracticability of friendship, and the fear of the emotional implications of opening herself up to someone seemed unimportant in that very instant. For a minute, she was almost able to forget all the misgivings born of the lifelong struggle and give herself over to something personal—something _normal_.

The moment they met eyes, Isabella was rocked by a wash of emotion so clearly defined that it nearly made her head spin. Everything about him was just so... amazing. She didn't know how she had missed it all before: his haphazard hair that he had allowed to grow out, the look of perplexity at seeing her barge into his room, and most of all, the spark of intelligence in his eyes... This was someone that could be worthy of her friendship, her confidence—her trust.

She wondered how he felt, if it was anything like the tidal wave of sensation that had just crashed over her.

So engrossed was she that she didn't hear the sudden silence of the water shutting off, or the opening of the bathroom door. Soon, though, she was awakened from the semi-stupor by a voice.

"Isabella?"

Dazed, she turned to the right to see who had interrupted her.

Phineas was standing in nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist, eyeing her with bashful awareness of his lack of clothing. "Isabella, right?" he repeated, the blush on his pale cheeks becoming ever more apparent.

Isabella's gaze drifted back to Ferb, who was seated upon his bed with an overlarge book on some complex topic she couldn't begin to understand. From under the soft locks of hair that brushed his brow, his brilliant eyes remained locked on her. He set aside the book and got to his feet. Isabella had never been a short girl, but Ferb easily topped her by at least a couple of inches.

It was impossible to really tell, but from the expression on his face, Isabella could almost believe that he might have felt at least an inkling of what she had.

With yet another jolt, a sobering swell of mental clarity cascaded through her, erasing all infatuation from her mind. She told herself that she was being ridiculous. Baljeet's talk had conditioned her to feel the clichéd sensations of "love"—or attraction, or connection, whatever it was—upon seeing one of the brothers. Using all of her inner resolve, Isabella crushed the fluttery feelings and replaced them with an iron-clad lack of emotion. She allowed icy indifference to flow through her entire body, forgetting almost entirely about her moment of weakness. Almost.

"It's been a while since I've seen either of you," she stated in a clipped tone, feigning a diplomatic intent. "I thought I should check to make sure everything is going okay."

"Uh... yes?" was Phineas' bemused reply. He glanced to his brother for answers, seemingly checking to see if he had missed anything while he was showering. Isabella caught the minute shake of Ferb's head that expressed perfectly that he had no idea what was going on either.

"Good." Isabella gave a haughty "hmph!" and crossed her arms. "Even though most people aren't paying attention anymore, I don't think that it's ever a good idea to let your guard down. You never know." She was mentally rolling her eyes at her contradictory intent on coming over.

"I actually think we're okay by now," Phineas said with a smile. "It's nice to actually enjoy summer, you know? Hey, it's nice just to _have_ summer again! I mean, we probably don't get up to half the stuff that we—that is, our other selves—do in the other dimension, but you never know; we might be getting there!"

His delight with life was bordering on infectious. Isabella almost had to restrain the smile tugging at her mouth. With a deep breath, she shook her head. "You never know," she repeated ominously, almost implying that Doofenshmirtz could break out at any point to take over the Tri-State area once again.

Phineas shrugged carelessly. "Well, I think we can handle it if anything else happens. We've got each other now, right?" He jabbed a thumb in Ferb's direction. "I bet that Ferb and I could take on the robot army all by ourselves by now!"

At that, Isabella couldn't help herself. She laughed scornfully. "Yeah, like you two could take on a robot army. You could barely fight off a few of them last time!"

"Says the girl who was driving the mine cart," chided a smooth British voice from the room.

She whipped around to face Ferb, barely repressing her rage. "Excuse me?"

Ferb's gaze was even, just as blank as hers. And yet, she could see the trace of humour in his eyes. He knew exactly how she would react to what he was saying.

She decided not to take the bait. With another deep breath, she returned her gaze to Phineas. "Listen, I'm just saying that it's too quiet. We should all be on our toes in case someone—or something—else decides to attack Danville." She sighed irritably, thinking of her encounter with Buford the previous day. "I don't know why I ever stopped wearing my battle outfit. It might come in handy."

In her peripheral vision, she could see one of Ferb's thin eyebrows raise sceptically, but she ignored him. Phineas was staring at her with mingled disbelief and wonder.

"You're really into this whole resistance thing, aren't you?" he asked, his voice honestly surprised. "Maybe it's just me, but I think we should all be enjoying the peace and quiet—you know, just in case something _does_ happen." He gave her a nod of acknowledgement. "Then we can at least say that we had some good times before it all went wrong again!"

Isabella had no idea how a kid could make something so grim sound so positive. It was even worse that his words made sense. The bugger was just as optimistic as his alternate dimension counterpart.

She uncrossed her arms while keeping her stiff, upright posture. "Maybe, I guess," she relented grudgingly. Despite the embarrassing moment of vulnerability, she still wasn't planning on becoming best friends with anyone—or falling in love, for that matter—but maybe he was right. Maybe she could stop dwelling so much on the outfit hidden in her closet. Maybe she could find a different hobby than working on tactical defence strategies.

It wasn't likely, though.

Even so, it was strange how he had done it with only a few sentences, but Phineas had almost shifted her outlook ever so slightly. His mood truly was infectious. _Like a disease_, she thought with acidity, though she still had to bite back a smile.

She shook her head mentally, so that they wouldn't see. What was wrong with her today?

"Good." Phineas was beaming now. "Anyway, we were just about to go make a giant ice cream sundae machine." He touched his chin in a mock ponderous gesture. "It feels right, somehow. Wanna join us?"

Isabella could hardly believe it, but for some reason, giant ice cream sundaes felt like it did bear some sort of significance. What would they even mean to her? She couldn't imagine, but she could feel a twinge in her throat, the ghost of a pain not really there. Nevertheless, she brushed off the sensation and declined his offer with a headshake.

"No thanks. I have to be getting back. Like I said, this was just a check-in."

Phineas looked crestfallen. "Well, all right then. But if you change your mind, don't hesitate to visit!" Suddenly remembering that he was still half-dressed, he darted into his room and disappeared into a closet. She could hear him rummaging through the hangers.

Isabella nodded curtly even though he wasn't there to see. Before leaving, she cast one last look at Ferb. He was still gazing at her, but now she couldn't quite pinpoint his expression. His eyes were like stained glass windows: beautiful, yes, but impossible to see beyond.

To her despair, she felt the fluttery sensation once again.

.*...*...*.

She thought that returning to isolation might help her forget that shockwave of sensation with which she was so unfamiliar—that _connection_.

It didn't.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** SURPRISE. Yeah no. I'm sure you all saw it coming. I request no flaming, even if you don't care for the pairing. Share the love! Anyhow, writing second-dimension Isabella is a bit tricky since I want her to be human while still repressing the most basic of human urges - the need to be accepted or feel a connection. As hard-hearted as she tries to be, I'm sure she would have that weakness somewhere deep down... As always, reviews are delightful~


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